Guilty Or Innocent?
by Algrene
Summary: When one of the Surprise's crew is arrested for the murder of another officer, Jack is determined to prove his lieutenant's innocence. The plot thickens around espionage, love, and loyalty.
1. Chapter 1

"A fine evening, eh, Mr Pullings?"

"Aye, sir,"

Jack smiled, draining the last of his Madeira. A ball at the Governor's could rarely have turned out better, everybody seemed in tearing spirits, and the orchestra was playing beautifully. Jack listened to the lively music and watched the couples dancing around him.

Nearly dropping his empty glass as Pullings pushed past him, lead, giggling, off to dance by the Governor's daughter, that lovely blonde haired creature. Lieutenant Pullings' nose and cheeks were so flushed, that if Jack was not much mistaken, he was not only very happy; but very drunk as well. Jack grinned at the thought of what keeping the morning watch tomorrow would be like on poor Pullings' head. He was about to comment on this to Stephen, who had just come up to him and handed him another Madeira, when Midshipman Williamson hurtled backwards into him from a particularly lively dance with his young lady. The Madeira cascaded, in a rich crimson torrent, down Jack's number one uniform and onto Mr Williamson's hair. Williamson's youthful little partner's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, and the Midshipman himself closed his eyes tightly, opened them again, went very green and then turned around incredibly slowly to face his slightly surprised captain.

"S-sir," he said, evidently at a loss as to what else to say.

"Never mind, Mr Williamson, ne'er mind. Are you enjoying your evening?"

"Oh, yes sir, if you please," gasped Williamson in a somewhat strangled voice.

"Well then carry on doing so,"

"Yessir," said Williamson, who had now gone from green to dark red and took his partner off as far away from Captain Aubrey as he could.

He turned to Stephen, amused, but Stephen was watching the couples intently.

"Jack," he said, turning to face him, "Which is Captain Clarke?"

"Clarke? That one over there-no, not that one, the short young fellow talking to Mr Pullings and that exquisite young thing he was dancing with earlier," Jack chuckled, "Which I daresay has earned him a fair few evil looks from the other young gentlemen here,"

"Is Clarke a reliable man? Would you say he can be trusted?"

Jack looked at his friend. There was a lot that Stephen had left unsaid; probably in the intelligence line. After their last mission, Jack knew that Stephen had orders to rendezvous with someone ashore, who was to carry the report home to England. Perhaps if Jack and him had been alone, Stephen would have elaborated more.

"Yes," said Jack, choosing his words carefully, "Admirable fellow. Most trustworthy. Promoted into the _Lion _in '98 for bravery in running stores ashore to our soldiers in The Loire,"

Stephen seemed satisfied with this answer, and nodded sagely.

"How easily jealously in love takes fruit,"

"Eh?"

"Observe, if you will, how our Captain Clarke dances with Miss Berkley,"

"The Governor's daughter? What of it?"

"See how mournfully Mr Pullings watches from the side. He looks almost sober, sure,"

"Love?" Jack laughed, "Lust perhaps, not love,"

"Perhaps,"

Pullings had begun to make his way around the outside of the dancers, his eyes still blazing at Clarke and his partner, who were dancing as if they had not a care in the world, and his feet treading uncertainly so that he swayed at every step.

"Fie, Tom. What would Mrs Pullings say if she saw you making eyes at other young ladies like that?"

"I must beg you not to tell her about it, sir," Pullings grinned blearily and then fell backwards thunderously onto the floor.

"Mr Williamson! Mr Williamson!" The cries brought the midshipman scurrying over, leaving his young maiden looking thoroughly put out beside a gigantic bowl of fruit.

"Help me move Mr Pullings over to the side before he is trampled,"

Mr Williamson seemed incredibly amused at seeing his superior out cold with drink and heartily helped Jack shift the unconscious Lieutenant Pullings onto an expensive looking chair out of harm's way.

"Will he be alright Stephen?"

Stephen looked at Pullings.

"Save from a very pitiable headache, the lieutenant will be perfectly fine. May you please advise him, Jack, not to drink so much, particularly when he is sailing the next morning,"

"Come, Stephen, we can hardly say that Mr Pullings is a drunk. He is perfectly able to stay sober, and it takes a most uncommon long time for him to become inebriated when he does,"

"Still, Jack, there we have him, drunk as sin,"


	2. Chapter 2

Jack strode on deck. His headache wasn't too bad, and there had been only a faint grogginess about his person when he had been cruelly dragged away from a particularly tender dream about Sophie.

He asked for Stephen; the doctor was not here. Clarke's ship, the _Venture_, was moored nearby- Stephen was probably aboard, he would be a fool not to have guessed that Clarke was the contact to whom Stephen was to deliver the reports. But if Stephen would not come aboard soon, the _Surprise_ would miss the tide, which would just not do.

"Killick!" called Jack in the vague direction of where he thought Killick might be, "Killick, there! Lay along with my number-one coat,"

"Which there ain't no number-one coat." Said Killick triumphantly.

"What's that?"

"There ain't no coat. Which I can't get the stains off it." and then added, as an afterthought, "Sir."

"Damn," said Jack, "Well I'll just have to go like this, then." And then he added, to the officer of the watch, "Mowett!"

"Sir!"

"I want to be underway within the hour, William. All present and sober?"

Jack noticed the pause before Mowett answered, and the apprehensive looks that were exchanged all along the deck. He discerned something that was different, that shouldn't be.

"William…Where is Mr Pullings?"

"Well, sir…"

"Is it not his watch?"

"Yes, sir, he should have relieved me two bells ago,"

"Pass the word for him to report to me, if you please,"

Mowett looked at Allen, who returned his glance with one of baffled consternation.

"Sir, I…Mr Pullings is not aboard,"

How could that be? Pullings had an impeccable record. He would never be late aboard unless he had a very good reason. He would not leave another officer standing his watch until he had an even greater reason. So was he not aboard because he didn't _want_ to be aboard, or because he was not _able_ to come aboard? And if he was unable to come, what did that mean? He could be dead, he could have been attacked by thieves on his way back to ship.

"Mr Mowett, come with me. No, wait, stay. You have had the night watch?"

"Yes, sir," The night watch was evident on Mowett's grey and tired face.

"Then stay here and get some rest. Mr Allen, take the watch,"

"Aye, sir,"

"Thank you, sir,"

Just then, the barge came. Stephen practically bounded up the side- nothing could have been more different than his usual precarious creep- and hurried, as fast as he could, to Captain Aubrey on the quarter deck.

"Jack!" he panted, "Clarke is dead,"

There was a sort of stunned silence which spread across the deck, broken only by an argument between Calamy and Hollom which floated up from the midshipmen's berth.

"Dead?" said Jack.

"He was killed during the night,"

"Killed?"

Stephen nodded.

"And his first lieutenant Calamy,"

"Calamy?"

"Jack, pray do not repeat everything I say. In the street last night, they were stabbed,"

"Lord," said Jack.

"And they believe they have arrested the murderer,"

"Sir," said a small voice close to Jack's right elbow, "If you please, sir," said Mr Williamson, "I've found Mr Pullings,"


	3. Chapter 3

"Not allowed? What the hell d'ye mean, 'not allowed?"

The marine stared back at Jack with the typical landsman's stupidity.

"I _order_ you to let me in!"

"Sarge's orders, sir. Not allowed t'let any vis'tors in. S'worth my life if I dis'bey, sir."

"It's worth your bloody life if you disobey _my_ orders," said Jack. "And I'm here right now and I'm holding a sword."

The marine was not impervious to this sort of diplomacy. He stepped aside from the bars and, with a jangling of keys, opened the door. He held it open and Jack stepped through. Stephen skulked in after him.

The cell the marine lead them to was, at first glance, empty. Then they saw the figure lying prostrate on the flagstones.

"Pullings?" Jack stepped up to the bars. "What's wrong with him? Let me in, damn you."

Stephen frowned. "He's been stunned. Look, you can see the blood."

Jack turned to the marine, who flinched.

"What did you do to him?"

"T'wasn't me, sir! Yer honour!"

Jack grabbed him by the collar. His feet barely scraped the floor.

"_What did you do to him?_"

"'E 'e 'e!" stammered the marine.

"He _what_?" said Jack, lifting the man several inches higher.

"'E didn't want to be arrested, Yer Honour! Excellency!"

Jack gave the marine a little shake. The man began to sweat heavily. Jack swatted a resisting hand against the wall.

"'E 'e 'e," continued the marine. "'E woke up, Excellency! As we was carryin' 'im! We wasn't expectin' it sir, an' 'e…" The marine panted and swallowed. "'E 'it our officer. Broke our lieutenant's nose! So we 'it 'im too! That is, sir, Yer Honour, Excellency, I didn't pers'nly! Jus' our lieutenant's orders!"

Jack frowned and turned to Stephen, his grasp on the marine's collar loosening slightly.

"Woke up? He shouldn't have been asleep to start with. He walked out of that ballroom himself, didn't he?"

The marine, who had been inching quietly away from Jack's iron fist, was slammed back against the wall.

"Ung!" he said, profoundly frustrated.

"Are you going to let him out?"

"I-I-I can't, sir, Yer Honour!" yelped the unfortunate man.

"_Why not_?" demanded Jack. The unfortunate marine suddenly became far more unfortunate as Jack's grip tightened. He made a choking noise. "He's done his night in the cells, surely?"  
The marine gasped several times, swallowed (as much as he still could swallow) and said: "For what?"

"Drunkenness, what else?" said Jack, surprise loosening his death-grip slightly. "Shouldn't you be telling me that?"

"S'not…" began the marine, gasped, and then started again. "S'not 'ere f'drunkenness, sir."

"Then _what_?"

The marine looked like he wanted to die. "M-murder, sir," he said, faintly.

Jack dropped the marine.

He stepped back.

"What murder?"

The marine, now crumpled at the foot of the bars, said, "Of Captain Callum Clarke and Lieutenant James Calamy, sir. 'E… 'e was there at the scene, sir. An' them two dead an' blood all over the place and 'im the only one breathing and breathing rum, there's no question about it, sir."

There was a silence. "Open the door," said Jack quietly.

The marine scrambled to his feet. He took out the ring with the keys on it, and pushed the big rusty key into the lock, fingers shaking slightly.

The moment the key turned, Jack pushed open the door. He strode over to the prone figure and crouched down.

There was the slam of a door and then ringing footsteps.

"What's all this?"

He was a young man, with a thin, drawn face and a thin, drawn marine lieutenant's uniform.

He saw Jack and Stephen and what colour there had been drained from the lieutenant's face, rendering it as pasty as his hair.

"You sir!" he said. "Get out at once! Dravies you'll pay for this!" he added to the cowering marine.

"No," said Jack. "No he won't."

"What the devil…" then he saw Jack's uniform and faltered into: "Oh. As you wish, sir."

"Why is Lieutenant Pullings being held here? On what charge?"

"Lieutenant Pullings, indeed. We were unaware of his name. Lieutenant Pullings as you say, is here on a charge of the murder of two officers of the Royal Navy, one of whom is his superior. There is nothing you can do for him, captain. The court-martial starts on Monday and I have no doubt what the verdict will be. Now I must ask you to leave."

Jack turned back to Pullings. Turning him over, he said: "Oh Tom you young idiot. What have you got yourself into?"


End file.
